Just Another One Of Those Stupid Decisions
by SpeakingThroughWrittenWords
Summary: Alfred will never get drunk again. But Arthur really thinks he should. Also titled 'Three Reasons America Has Come Up With To Advise People That Getting Drunk Is A Really, Really Stupid Idea'.


**Just Another One Of Those Stupid Decisions**

The first reason was for the hangover alone. Alfred groaned as the nausea and the headache hit him full on like a speeding truck hitting some small animal. Or any sort of vehicle at any speed hitting anything. If they were going somewhere, it was going to hurt.

"Fuck this..." he grumbled, trying to get up. There was a muffled curse as his hand landed on something that was not particularly sedentary. Alfred took in stock where he was.

In his Honda Crosstour, on top of Arthur. So nothing really new. At least the first part.

So the second reason was for waking up on top of Arthur, which was just creepy.

"Get off of me Alfred," Arthur grumbled, which is when Alfred realized Arthur had been awake and was still drinking. Which just proceeded to piss him off. He passed out before Arthur? What sort of a pansy was he?

But his head was telling him it did not care if Arthur was hitting on him in a dress, because it really just wanted him to stay where he was.

"Make me," he retorted. Arthur kicked him off. Alfred found himself on the floor.

Arthur giggled, nursing his beer can.

"You hate my beer," Alfred pointed out.

"Wank off," Arthur rolled his eyes. Alfred pulled a face, partly from the sentence and partly from his stomache.

"Not around you, thanks," he managed to say. "Ugh..."

Arthur giggled some more and Alfred was inclined to tell him he sounded like a girl.

"You sound like a girl."

"And you're a bloody git." For a moment Alfred thought Arthur was going to cry, like he usually did when they got drunk together. But instead he started snickering some more. "A bloody stupid one."

"Very original, Arthur," Alfred groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and wondering where his glasses had gone. He found them when he patted his hands around, getting a slight squeak from Arthur. "Hey... hey."

"Way hey," Arthur drawled. Alfred reached over and managed to pluck the can from Arthur's hand. Arthur kicked him again.

"Why does my ankle hurt?"

Arthur bust up laughing. Alfred frowned. He reached up and opened the car door.

"Fuck!"

"Serves you... some way!" Alfred shouted out at him. Shouted, because Arthur might have had some sort of problem where he could not hear him at a normal volume.

"You bastard! I hate you!"

Alfred ignored it, pulling himself back up on to the seat. It was easy. To ignore Arthur, that is. He had gotten it down to an art. It was called 'being a teenager'. See, he gave it a name and everything.

"What the hell is this?"

Arthur managed to pull himself back up into the car, over his hatred and tears relatively quickly.

"Nice art, Arty, but no thanks." Alfred licked his finger and rubbed it against his ankle.

"Wasn't me," Arthur managed to grab another beer before sliding out of the car again. The man was giggling again. Alfred felt like driving off and leaving him here.

Which was when it hit him.

Third reason to never drink again.

"Is this a tattoo?" he shouted. Arthur was laughing so hard that he dropped his beer. Alfred pulled Arthur's arm back into the car. It was followed by the rest of Arthur, thank God. It would have been rather awkward otherwise.

"Bloody 'ell..." Arthur grumbled, staring up at him. Then he cracked up again. Alfred stared in horror at his ankle.

"It's a fucking flower!"

"A chrysanthenum... mum... chrystanagum," Arthur was gasping for air. Alfred nearly hit him, but a hero would not do something like that.

Alfred has an influx of different morals though, so he would probably hit him later.

"And... what the hell does this say?" Alfred blinked down at the kanji. "Oh... f... don't tell me..."

"Eh... yeah," Arthur pushed himself up and grabbed for another beer. He missed it by a foot. Trying again the man missed by three and proceeded to make worse judgments from that point forward.

"This is goodbye to flip-flops." It was truly a tearful parting. Unplanned and forever. At least until Alfred remembered he could get it lasered off, but that particular detail had escaped him.

"Just around everyone," Arthur consoled him. Though consoling someone with a grin on your face which implied you killed their entire family was probably not the right way to go about it. "'specially... Kiku."

"But–! But it's so..."

"Gay?" Arthur suggested.

Alfred swore. Arthur laughed. Alfred hit him.

* * *

"Alfred-san, sorry for interrupting, but I left my power cable here–"

"Oh! Um... let me get my socks on!"

Kiku stared at the door which was slammed on his face.

_Socks?

* * *

_

Sober much later, Arthur could still laugh at Alfred.

At least until he looked at his latest tattoo which ran all the way up the side of his leg.

"Fucking_ flower_," Arthur hissed at it.

The rose, being a tattoo, said nothing. If it had, something would have been very creepy.

* * *

_Do not ask. This is where conversations entailing the evils of alcohol, the usage of flowers and kanji in tattoos (at least in America, though not usually together), and bromance gets you._


End file.
